


Before Death

by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Porn, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Protective Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5057494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier/pseuds/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean tries to keep you from hunting, just to keep you safe, but you convince him that he’s wrong, wrong, wrong.</p><p>There’s the “I can take care of myself” argument, but there’s also one about seizing the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before Death

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from my tumblr account.

“Ok”, Dean smacks the table, “Sam and I can go do this one I think.”

“Hang on, you two did the last one,” you remind him.

“Yeah,” he replies. “S’ok. You do the next one!” His manner was light and cheery, like _Isn’t it nice we can choose?_

You’re not sure why he’s doing this, so you let it go. Maybe there’s something he wants to talk to Sam about. Maybe he misses working alone with his brother.

“Okaaay,” you concede. “Well… I might work on my notes a bit more.”

“Cool,” he squeezes your arm, “see you in a few days.”

“See ya,” Sam smiles.

“Call me if you’re gonna be later than Sunday lunch!” you call out after them.

You hear Dean’s “Okay!” from down the corridor and stare at the doorway for a while.

The hunt goes well, even though Sam now constantly aches from a huge bruise on his ribs. Dean doesn’t let on exactly how rough it was for him, but you can tell they’re both taking nice deep breaths about being home. Shape shifters are always a bit unpredictable, especially when it comes to the emotional side of their attacks. Maybe they had an extra sociopathic one this time.

A few days later, another hunt comes up – what they think is a relative of the shape shifter they just caught – and once the details are out you’re already standing to go get your stuff.

“Y/N, we can handle this one,” Dean says as he leaves his seat.

“But Sam’s still recovering. I’ll come,” you explain.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he shakes it off, using a little too much nonchalance for your liking. “We’ll be okay. You defend the fort and look for the next hunt.”

“Dean, his ribs might be cracked. It’s silly to not take a third person when Sam’s not 100%-“

“When are we ever 100%, Y/N?” he interrupts trying to shirk it off but your bullshit detector has just maxed out.

“This is two in a row… Why don’t you want me to hunt?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, frowning a little, “Just… you know…”

“Nope,” you say. “Don’t know…”

He looks at you, at Sam, giving away nothing: No defiance, no nerves, no jokes, nothing. Just shifts a few papers with his fingertips, hoping you’ll give in…

“Sam?” you turn to him, “Any ideas?”

He looks at you with a slightly nervous expression. “Not really,” he looks at Dean, “I mean… I think she’s right.”

“Sam,” Dean shakes his head, “we don’t need to put a third person at risk. Two is enough.”

“What if it’s more than one shape shifter?” Sam asks.

Dean rubs his forehead and takes deep breath while he avoids eye contact. “I just…” he frowns and shakes his head more, looking at the wall, “I just work better with Sam. Alone. Maybe it should just be us two again.”

He looks at you and blinks, licks his lips, and watches for your reaction.

“Since when?” says Sam.

He shrugs, hands on hips, “I just noticed that I do… and I don’t wanna put any one’s life at risk because I’m not in good form.”

You’re still staring at him, watching to catch a tell of some sort. In your heart, and your mind, you suspect this isn’t true, but it’s such a shock to hear it that you’re double guessing yourself. What if he _doesn’t_ like hunting with you and has just been polite and tolerant all these months?

Sam stands saying “Dean,” like a warning; “if you’re doing what I think you’re doing you better knock it off right now.” Sam’s hand rises, pointing loosely at Dean. His expression becomes intense and his breathing shallow. You begin to wonder what the hell is between them that would get Sam so worked up. Is there some secret thing on the horizon that Dean wants you away from? Or do they disagree about something already?

Dean shifts his weight, not wanting to reply. “Seriously, Dean,” Sam goes on, “Stop it right now or I will call you out. This is not the way to do… whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Yeah well it’s got nothing to do with you, Sam, so just can it,” Dean snaps and goes to leave.

“Damned if it doesn’t,” Sam yells at his back. “Don’t send her away just coz you can’t handle it. She’s too good and we’re better with her.” But Dean’s already stormed off, down the corridor, to his room.

Sam strides away from you, following his brother, and you catch up soon enough.

At Dean’s room, Sam knocks once and opens the door.

“Get out,” Dean orders.

“I can’t believe you-“

“It’s not your business-“ Dean barks at him.

“ _Of course_ it’s my business,” Sam leans in and points at you as he rants. “We are better together, and if sending away a friend of mine, someone I love hunting with, isn’t enough to make it my business try this on: If you really care about protecting her, how the hell are you going to do that when she’s not even here?”

You step inside Dean’s room and stand at the end of his bed as they argue, Dean pacing as he listens, red-faced and defiant. It seems your friendship with him is now strong enough to switch on that uber-protective streak he has. You’re gonna take that as a compliment, of sorts, for now.

“Well if she does die, at least it won’t be because of me!” Dean yells.

Sam’s frown clears as he stands up straight, and a look of fiery annoyance settles in. You’re a bit worried about what he’s going to say, or do, next so choose now to cut in.

“Okay, guys, maybe we can figure this out later, give it some space for now,” you speak firmly and levelly and watch them both break back a little, breathing and looking away. “Let’s go get this job done first-“

“You’re not coming,” Dean growls out, barely glancing at you.

“Yeah, I am,” you insist. He turns to say something and you get in first _“Most_ of us think it’s a good idea, so I’m coming.”

“Y/N,” Dean says, poking the air at you, which for some reason has you thoroughly galled. “If you come I will cuff you to the car.”

Okay, so at this point, you think you’ve had about enough. You don’t know what your face is doing, but as your thoughts gather, anger building, you can see Dean considering that maybe that might be a phrase he’ll regret later. Possibly.

You clench your jaw so hard you think a tooth might crack. “Well that may be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” you grind out. He opens his mouth to speak and you cut him off again: “How the fuck would I be safer tethered to a car?”

“I watched you, Y/N, I watched you get between Sam and that vampire. It knocked you down and if you hadn’t fallen the right way you would’ve been pizza for that thing.” You’re glaring at him, confused and incredulous, as he speaks. “You were so close to being killed and I can’t, I just can’t watch that again!”

“So _you_ stay home!” you snap. “I can’t believe you want me to stay here and never hunt again because you _got a fright?”_

Dean glares at you darkly, most likely biting a curse into his tongue.

Sam now has his hands on his hips, staring at his boiling brother with an unreadable expression – something patient yet shitty. You’ve been doing your best to give Dean the benefit of the doubt, but you’re pretty sure this is kind of like a load of crap.

Still… you decide to pull it back a notch, one more time, and speak steadily, with some sort of reason. “Dean, I’m a hunter. I hunt. If you want me safe, keep me between you and Sam, facing the things that threaten us. Not far away and by myself with no one at my back. And not here getting weak and out of form.”

Your logic may be flawless, but apparently it doesn’t resolve anything except Dean’s stubbornness. He stops pacing, sets his jaw and looks at you… with apathy. He takes on an air of annoyance, like he could really do without you around right now. A cold dread floods your chest and suddenly you don’t know what to say.

Silent second pass and he says flatly “You can leave now,” and waits with that unmoving gravity some decisions have. So you leave.

You and Sam collect your gear and head for the car, Dean only seconds behind you.

The drive is absent of chat between the brothers, and you make no effort to solicit conversation. Part of you is still queasy with the idea that Dean doesn’t like you much – a suggestion you can’t shake, regardless of what else was said – but you decide that until he can make it clearer that he wants you gone, or more convincing at least, you’re going to stay. Especially since Sam seems to want you here. Regardless, the last thing you’re going to do is chinwag and make things worse, so you clam up.

During a fuel stop, while Sam is paying and getting snacks, Dean just starts talking out of the blue. “Y/N, it’s not just that people around me tend to die… which they do, it’s just… I always ruin these things… And then when things are bad, those times that are good just make things worse.”

He sees you, in the rear mirror, frowning coz you’re wondering what the hell that means. “When things are good, like really good, it feels like the worst times are just ahead. And when those good times, and people, are taken from me it’s so much harder to deal with the crap. It just,” he shakes his head, “I dunno… it’s just so jarring… It’s like getting tricked…”

Your gaze was caught on the shine of the window frame as you thought about his words. Even Sam getting back into the car didn’t snap you out of your thoughts.

At the motel, talk was about the job – curt, specific, colourless, explanatory and instructional. No frills, no smiles.

Even during the hunt, possibly the coldest and fastest one you’d ever done, no one said anything that didn’t need saying. There’d been two shape-shifters, and once you’d established there were no more, the deaths were fast and direct. There was a fight and this time you wanted the job finished fast; every move was for the kill, not just to defend. You were fierce and deadly alongside the brothers and did your best to be thorough and focused. Dean didn’t talk about risk or safety. You thought, maybe, he didn’t like you enough to really care if you were hurt – maybe the safety concern thing was a cover?

Finally, back in your shared room, you decided to order pizza for everyone. You didn’t even ask what they wanted: just went by the last order. When you started on the toppings, Dean said “Extra olives please.” He sounded softer and you stared at his back as he took off his boots while you relayed the request.

Sam emerged from the shower and you broke the stalemate. “Sam” you asked, “did you guys relax any differently before me?”

“No,” he shrugged a little, “nah, same-same. Movies, drinks, bars, card games.”

“You don’t keep the mirth to a minimum or anything?”

“Why would we do that?” he asked.

“So, if hell is a zero, and a ten is orgasming behind the white-picket-fence of your dreams, where do your fun nights rank?”

Sam laughed a little. “Well, they’re better than crap and worse than perfect. I mean, what’s the point if it’s going to suck?” He finished packing his things away. “Nah, we’ve had lots of fun nights, right Dean?”

You look at his older brother, sitting cross-armed against his pillows and staring at you and your meddling chit-chat. “Am I too happy for you?” you ask him. “What is it about my presence that is so unbearable Dean? Why is me simply being here too good for you to cope with anything bad?”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asks.

“Fuck, I don’t even know, Sam,” you sigh, and get your things together for the shower. “Pizza’s on its way.”

“Y/N,” Dean says softly and gets up, meeting you at the bathroom door and taking your wrist. You dump your stuff on the tiles. “It’s not just one thing, you know?” he rubs his thumb on your skin as he talks, “It’s the whole thing. The closer I get to anyone, the more likely they are to be killed, and then I’m losing the ones I need most. If… If-“

“Dean,” you take a small handful of shirt and thump his chest with your fist as you speak, pleading, “I think you’re awesome. I think Sam’s awesome. I hunt better with you two. I’m safer with you two. I’m happier with you two. I don’t think I should be anywhere else… but if you’d rather I weren’t here, then I’ll go.” You look at his buttons, feeling the warmth through the fabric, realising how heartbroken you would be if he sent you away, if he thought he’d be happier with you gone, but the dread and distance you’d felt since the blow up earlier had been almost unbearable. “You know, I’ll cope. I won’t stay if you don’t like me being around.” You look up at him again and blink, thankful you’ve stayed dry.

He shakes his head, apparently sorry. “No, of course I _want_ you here with us Y/N. You’re an excellent hunter and… I think you’re awesome too-“

You’re so relieved, and so moved to see him regretful, you smile and reach up for a quick kiss on the cheek, just a kind kiss of thanks and comfort before you say as much, but instantly his grip on your wrist snatches harshly and he pulls you forward, his other hand catching your ribs, and you’re centred on him, lips locking.

He moves his mouth, wetness mingling, and it’s not the kiss you meant. It isn’t like you thought it would be – the feel of him, and the smell, suddenly has your heart stumbling. It isn’t a friendly peck like you’d started but something completely different and surprising and electric. And you want more.

Dean makes a quick sound and snaps away. He holds his hands up and steps back.

The conversations fall into place. Missing nouns and verbs fill the gaps and comprehension dawns on you as to what had been said that day.

He pulses his jaw and swallows, looking down and shaking it all off, again. “Y/N, it just never works out.” The resolution and melancholy has returned. He won’t look at you. “It never ends well.”

After a moment, you turn and look at Sam standing by the table, watching you for a reaction. But you don’t give one. You just go have your shower.

After the soap and the shampoo, you stand there in the perfect, wet heat and replay the day. As soon as you accept the idea that Dean likes you, is attracted to you, your mind immediately skips it – straight past the stunned flattery and even the giddy delight you can feel on the edge of your thoughts – because he’s already said no. Some sabotaging troll in your mind thinks _Doesn’t he like you enough to make you stay anyway, risk be damned?_ But you know him: that’s not how his affection works. Safety first, pleasure second. For him, making someone stay so he could have them is like throwing them on a burning bed - “Here, cuddle this grenade.”

So he’s decided for you already and denying the experience to you both. For fleeting moments, you’re furious and chewing your teeth over it, a list of insulting adjectives running over your tongue. _Of course he has to be a martyr about this too, for fuck’s sake, fucking muppet. For the love of all things human…_ but instead you pause and try to think of what magic words might get him past that place. You so want him to have some happiness. Not to mention that sweet kiss and whatever lies beyond. _Holy shit._

You close your eyes, tilt your head back into the stream and try to think of the weakest point in his argument, the softest skin on that belly…

Once out in the main room, you step in front of Dean as he heads for the shower. “You know you’re choosing for me too, when you do this.” He blinks and secretly suppresses the guilt as you talk. “I don’t get to see how happy I could be either. Because you’ve decided that it’s the contrast that hurts, not the pain itself, and so we can’t have it.”

He licks his lips and acts unaffected, waiting for you to step out of the way. So you do, but as he passes you add, “I’d have thought a fighter like you would take all the pleasure you could get,” he stops at the door, “that you’d fuck it all off and when you do get to those hard times you’d think ‘At least I had that’…” He seems to be tired or annoyed, waiting for you to finish. So you mutter, “Something worth having fought for anyway,” and head for the pizza.

You hear the bathroom door close and you sigh into the chair next to Sam. He lets you eat in silence for a few minutes.

“So,” he says, leaning forward with his beer, “am I about to become a third wheel?”

“Seems that’s up to him,” you answer.

“He really does like you, you know,” he takes a sip. “A lot. It’s annoying.”

“Why?” you ask, defensive.

“Coz you’d be awesome together, and then we could get on with what we do.”

You look at your food and try not to smile.

“And then I could flirt with you,” he says in mock earnestness. “Gotta love shitting the big brother.”

“Let me just picture that for a moment,” you joke, relieved to have some lightness in the day, “flirting with you and jealous sex with Dean.” You begin to laugh but you imagine Dean’s gaze in your face and a wall at your back and suddenly there’s a wave of red heat enveloping your neck. You see Sam notice your blush, his hand covering his mouth just to keep his beer in, and you curse your skin for confessing too much. “Shit!” you say, shaking your head and fanning yourself, “Woooh my goodness!” You both laugh it off until you can take another bite.

“Okay,” Sam chuckles, “I’m going out to a bar for a while.”

“No it’s okay-“ you wave at him to sit back down, “I’ll manage-“

“No, really, have some space,” he’s already pulling his jacket over his arms. “I’ll be fine. Let me know how you go, yeah?”

“Sure, okay… thanks.”

“No problem,” he says and pats your shoulder before kissing the top of your head and leaving.

Minutes pass before Dean turns off the water. As you wait, your temper gets back to what he left you with – a stone wall and no clues.

You look over at him when he comes out in track pants and t-shirt. He says nothing about Sam being absent.

You stand and cross your arms as you lean against the kitchen counter facing the beds. You watch him put things away and tidy around, stalling. When everything is done, he even turns down a corner of the covers before giving in and talking to you. “You know I’m just trying to keep you safe, right?”

He’s standing by the bed, nothing but yards of carpet between you. “Yeah,” you reply, “you don’t want to see me die.”

“That’s right,” he sighs like you finally get it and steps towards you. “I just can’t watch any more loved ones be taken.”

You try not to flinch or think too hard. _Of course he loves me, we’re good friends._

“You’d rather have _me_ watch _you_ die,” you say, even though you know it’s mean, that he’ll bite back against such a thing.

His face drops stony and he rolls his eyes but you go on, moving towards him as you do. “You’d rather have me watch you die, coz apparently it’ll be easier for me to lose Dean Winchester, than it would be for you to lose another friend. Even though that will probably happen eventually _anyway.”_ Even you feel bad about what you’re saying – he _has_ lost a lot - but you’re not sure your point is that wrong.

“Y/N,” he groans, rubbing his face.

“You are the most important person I know, Dean, and the best man I‘ve ever met. The best. Hands down. I couldn’t… _fuck.”_ You don’t know how to get this point across, and you know he won’t damn well listen to compliments anyway. So you change tack, stepping close enough to reach him, but you can’t drop your wounded tone. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. We’re both going to die, almost definitely from hunting, so it’s not like we can plan who goes first, is it?”

A look of tight resignation cross his face, and you feel desperate all of a sudden. It feels like a tipping point. You realise you want him, badly. Your hands feel suddenly empty and the space around you cold. He’s right there, damn well defining the list of what you want, and you can’t keep your bitterness out of the way you bite your words. “If you’re happy dying with dreams instead of memories, _fine._ But _screw you_ for keeping that from me too.”

He blinks, and something’s changed. “Okay,” he says, putting his hands on your arms.

“What?”

“Okay,” he’s nodding and closer, almost against you now. “You should stay with us.” His voice is bumpy and low and he seems to be apologising somehow.

You speak quickly, searching his eyes for assurance. “You want me to stay with you guys?”

“Yes. With us. With me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Because you like me.”

“Yes, I like you… A lot…” he takes a deep breath, “more than anyone.”

“Could you kiss me please? It’s been a shit day.”

His face softens and you feel his smile against your mouth before his lips kiss yours.

It’s your Dean. You know him. Yet it’s new and warm and he smells like home.

Your hands land on his cheeks, softly sliding back to hold him. He stops to look at you, his breath heightening as he glances over your features. His hands slip up to your forearms, squeezing quickly before dropping to your ribs and stepping against you to pull you tight and kiss you again.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Mmm,” you answer, tasting your lower lip. “More please.”

His lips are nudging against yours again, his arms wrapping around your waist and bending you into him. You drag your hands over his shoulders as you both breathe in and taste each other. He kisses you perfectly, tongue licking gently, gentle undulating nods as you run your fingers into his hair. You begin to frown and press against him, your fingers gripping the short strands on his head, and he grunts a little as you do. He breaks the kiss and looks at you open mouthed.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, “I love kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” and you wiggle his head a little as you say “I can’t believe you would let me die without having kissed you. _Asshole.”_

“Uh,” he moans a short answer, his breathing becoming laboured, pupils blown. You see his tongue play on his teeth.

“Rrreally?” you ask, referring to your grip on his hair.

“Uh… Really.”

“Right… noted,” you mutter and drag your hand down the back of his head. “I’m looking forward to learning more about you.”

“Yeah? What about you?” he asks.

“Me?”

“Oh yeah. You wanna do this, let’s go the whole nine.” He leans over, a calculating smile ratcheting your nerves, and presses his cheek to yours. “What makes your vision blur?” he wonders. He kisses behind your ear, and then around your neck as he asks questions and you wonder if _hearing_ can blur. “You got a place you like to be kissed?… some trigger point that flips your pulse?… or do you like something… more bossy…?” He lifts his head to see what you think. You’re barely keeping it together at this stage, feeling intoxicated and almost limp from this strength rolling around you, even just the way he says _kissed._ His forearm comes up behind you and collects a handful of hair to tilt your head back and he looks down over you with the most devouring gaze you’ve ever seen. His want, and the exposure of your neck, has you lose control of your self-awareness for a moment and you fucking _mewl_ in his arms.

“Or maybe we have more in common than I thought,” he says.

You breathe and swallow, and close your eyes to regroup. “Seems so,” is all you can manage.

He leans over and mouths your neck, his tongue firmly pushing over your pulse in the curve of your throat. The heat of him over you, pressed against you, is encompassing, almost controlling, and when you run your mind over the planes of contact between you, there is something not like the others, something firm.

“Hoshit, Dean?”

“Mmm?”

“Maybe we should ask Sam to give us some time.”

“Good idea,” he muffles. He loosens his hold and helps you turn toward the table to collect your phone. His hands slide up and down your sides, over your t-shirt and beyond the edge of your pyjama shorts. While he nuzzles your neck you thumb at Sam’s name and begin to type. “You should” you start, but Dean’s hands distract you as they move across your thighs and up, his palms landing on the creases of your hip, fingertips between your legs and thumbs sitting atop your public bone, nearly framing your softness as he presses you against him… “Be late,” you type quickly.

Your phone tumbles onto the table as you catch yourself falling forward. Dean shifts his hands over your groin, one on top of the other, and holds you, rippling pressure over your softness and moving you against your own bones.

“Is this too far?” he says into your neck.

“Not too far,” you answer. “How far did you want to go?”

He turns you around and moves, getting you against the counter before collecting your thigh, pressing it to his waist with his forearm, his hand full of ass cheek and your heath pressed against him, your nerves feeling hair-trigger sensitive. He collects your jaw with the other hand and kisses you hungrily, thoroughly, pushing himself against your hips and letting you feel how much he wants you. “A pretty long way,” he sighs, and starts to work his hardness against you, both of you gasping at the sensation. You grab at his waist as you’re crushed by his erection grinding your clitoris. He pauses a bit and says “I’m gonna leave no position unturned with you.”

You huff a short laugh and drag your fingers down his neck while he nudges you. You kiss his cheek, then the skin under his chin and over to his ear lobe, licking and sucking as you go, letting your fingers tips provide some contrast to his oppressive movements. You caress his eyebrow, slip your thumb lightly over his lashes, down to his lips and wipe the wetness when he opens them for you. When you look at him, he has his eyes closed, feeling everything you’re giving him and his lean has eased off. You brush your fingers over his brow and around his features, soothing away the angst.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says and opens his eyes to you, “I’m going to fall for you.”

An indescribable thrill runs down your bones, rattling your mortality. “How about,” you begin, your hold getting stronger, and quip, “how about I cry after sex like a regular person, okay?”

And the moment is dropped. “Aw baby,” - _shit he’s calling me baby already_ – “I’m not going to let you cry,” he says and kisses around your face, and down your neck.

“I will though,” you insist, letting him nuzzle and lick, “coz it’ll be over when Sam gets back and I’ll be so sad.”

“We’ll get him his own room,” he muffles, and he’s getting into your cleavage, feeling you through your t-shirt. “Okay, I really do want you Y/N,” he says urgently. “You have no fucking idea. Can I get these clothes off you?”

“Uh, okay, sure,” you answer and your t-shirt is whipped off you before you can even help. Dean dives onto your breasts, pulling you into him so you’re almost tipped backwards. Your arms reach up to brace yourself on the overhead cupboards. He moves down, mouthing at your belly and hip bones, tucks his fingers into your shorts and underwear and edges them down as he kisses south.

You slide your hand into his hair and pull the other up his neck, breathing strongly to keep yourself grounded while he nuzzles in your hip. It’s been awhile since you felt anyone else down there, let alone anyone who really cared for you.

“Ok, Y/N? I’m just gonna,” he mumbles and moves over to the apex of your thighs, his open mouth over your labia, and licks his tongue between your folds and all the way up. You cry out at the sensation and bend over, his hair tickling your stomach as you close your eyes and listen with your skin. He grips the top of your thighs and holds you still as he licks and circles your nerves. He takes one leg and rests it over his shoulder, caressing, and uses his other hand to hold your lips open.

“Oh God,” you gasp, “Mmm, that’s… _Dean,”_ you sigh, working on keeping your one leg standing.

He pushes his knuckles against your opening - just a gentle massage that works out the wetness - and slowly licks up your folds. “Uuuugh,” slips out of you and you bite your lip to get your bearings. You open your eyes and catch him looking up at you. You put your hand over his ear, your fingertips caressing his jaw bone and hairline, and breathe.

A glint of cheekiness flashes over his expression and he closes his eyes as moans, his deep voice thrumming against you. An aching breath escapes you and he’s watching your face plead for it. He moans against you again and you answer back on a bitten lip. This time he moans onto you and slides two fingers in, curving instantly to seek out that patch and finds it fast. Your jaw drops and you cry out as he gently rubs. Your hands pull at his neck and head but soon you’re grabbing the benchtop, helping to keep yourself up, since your leg is buckling under the sensations of his rocking reach, knuckles pushing against you, g-spot being relentlessly stroked.

“Deeean!” you plead. He gives you a sucking kiss, right on the clit, making you swear _Ah! Fuck!_ and then uses his spare hand to guide you down to his lap as he sits on his feet. He hinges you against his fingers, his thumb on your clit, kissing you desperately as your voice climbs higher, and you grip onto him, both of you panting into each other’s face as you cry out through your orgasm.

He slips his fingers out and cups you gently, letting you rock against him, and soon you’re kissing him over and over, on his mouth, his cheeks, his ear, pulling him into a tight hug. He lets his arms loop around you and holds you against him. You hum occasionally and you calm, hug him harder, your body wriggling around him to work it all out, and he hums back as you push on his erection.

“Bed,” you say and slowly climb off to stand. He’s soon tall before you, his eyes raking over your naked form and you push him backwards. He smiles at you in happy anticipation while he holds your hand. All it takes is a twitch of the eyebrows from you and he’s pulling off his top and pants. You run your fingers over his chest and thighs, both sights you’d seen before, but this was the first time you’d seen all those parts connected and the sweet softness and hardness between. You graze his lower belly with your fingertips and feel the dip in the tender skin. He breathes deeply and watches you look at him.

You walk past him and crawl onto the bed. “Would you mind if we…”Reaching into your bag you pull out a condom and you face him to ask “I do want to pay you back, but you’ve kind of made me hornier and-”

He takes the protection from you, leaving you kneeling there as he gets it on. Then he looks at you, his hand reaching out. You take it and guide his fingers to your hip as you turn toward the pillows and lean over onto your hands and knees. “I want you this way,” you say, “deep and filling.”

Dean sucks on his teeth and moves behind you, running his hands over your ass and thighs, sliding over your lower back and waist. “Oh god,” he sighs, “that’s a good idea,” and slips himself along your swollen folds. He rocks back and forth, the length of him tipping your clitoris again several times, making you hum, before he slides back and slowly pushes into you, a steady… slow… pressure… inwards. And it’s exquisite.

His fingertips press into your skin as he pauses and lets out a steady breath. “Uh you’re so tight,” he says, “feels so good.”

“It’s not me,” you say breathlessly, “You’re fucking thick.” And you shift your knees apart a little, not even joking.

He moves out and in, once, and you moan. He answers you with a noise and goes again, a little faster. “Go, Dean,” you say, pressing his hand to your hip, “please, more please.”

“Mmm,” he agrees and starts to move back and forth, your voice bouncing out of you as he bounces off your ass, the thickness of the hilt triggering a complete pressure his fingers just can’t create. Each beat makes you louder, and Dean starts to make noises of his own.

Then he pulls out completely, saying “Sorry, I just-“ he lays down next to you and moves you to straddle him, “I want you in my arms, so I can see you,” he says, guiding himself back into you as you willingly lower your body. You move up a little and drop your weight, and a groan punches out of him.

He lifts your hips, holding them where he wants, then plants his feet and thrusts upwards and into you. Both of you moan in sharp surprise at how good it feels. “Holy fuck, Y/N,” he says, and brushes yout hair aside to hold your head and kiss you. He wraps his other arm around you as you hold yourself as strong as you can, and he bucks his hips up. Your breathing and noises are so strong you can’t keep kissing him, so you both gasp and grunt, mouth to mouth, as he snaps into you, both of you quickly reaching an edge. He drags his lips to you ear gasping “Y/N, uh, god-” and you come, loudly, pleasure bursting from your groin, your fingers clutching his neck as you gasp. He’s right there, desperately grunting and groaning his orgasm through the next few thrusts, his brow furious. Quickly he holds you against him and drops down to the bed. He grabs your head in both hands to kiss you ardently and you both puff through the dissipating buzz.

After a while, he tucks your head under his chin, hands drunkenly stroking your hair and back until you’re both breathing normally. You ease yourself off and let him clean up a little while you pull the covers back.

Your phone buzzes and you swear and stumble over to collect it, reading Sam’s reply as you collect the clothes and come back to the bed: “Found some company. See you at breakfast.”

You show Dean. “Good man,” he says.

You begin to pull your shorts on but he grabs the fabric and yanks it down. “What are you _doing?”_

“Sorry,” you answer, “habit and all.” You slide onto the mattress and let him curl over you like you’re some body-pillow, his face against your neck and ear. You roll a little so you can hold him too. “You okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

“Just checking… felt a bit… intense maybe.”

He takes a deeper breath. “Yeah,” he sighs, but doesn’t say any more. Not for a long time anyway. “I haven’t been with…” he stops again.

Then you have a thought. “Hey, if it helps: You know how long I’ve been a hunter, right?”

“Yeah, like, forever.”

“You’re the first man I’ve had sex with who’s had a last name,” you say. He shifts to look at you and you look back, only slightly shitting yourself that it was too much too soon. “It’s scary for me, to be with someone who knows me like this.”

He just keeps looking, and thinking, stroking your cheek… “Yeah,” he says. “There’s that. But… I just… really wanted you,” he confesses, and adds “and your smokin’ hot ass. God, watching that booty fight is the hottest thing I know.”

“Okay, you’re not going to win on the Who’s More Distracted meter, Dean. Why do you think I’m squinting and frowning all the time?”

“Get some rest,” he says, pinning you to him and burying his face. “I’m gonna wake you up in a few hours.”

Your eyebrows go up and you’re wordless for a moment before whispering “…I’m supposed to rest after you say that?”

“It’s an order,” he mumbles, “and you deserve it.”

You feel his lips kiss behind your ear and you hug him again before relaxing into his hold. His breath gets slower and deeper and you let it lull you into a rest you’ve never needed more.


End file.
